


Intermission I: Of Dragons, Bards, and Fairytales.

by Krasimer



Series: Dreams of You 'Verse [9]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Barely mentioned past abuse, Falling In Love, M/M, Not as weird as it sounds, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:41:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If could figure out why he was still here, then he wouldn't feel so empty. If he could figure out what it was that he was still doing wrong, then maybe he could finally be forgiven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Only a Man With a Candle to Guide Me.

**Author's Note:**

> **10/3/14::::EDIT: IMPORTANT INFORMATION PLEASE READ**  
>  Alright, so I did a kind of stupid thing. I didn't back up my stories on a second device after I wrote them, and seeing as I'm almost constantly writing, you might see why this is a problem. 
> 
> The USB I use to store my stories (Including the next chapter and a half of this one) broke today. 
> 
> I don't know if I can recover anything off of it, but I am looking into it. In the meantime, I am putting all of my stuff on a hiatus. Everything I have written in the past two years is on this one drive, except for the older versions of things that were stored elsewhere and hadn't been updated yet.

Smaug sighed, running a hand through his hair. The night air around him was cool, an odd contrast to how warm the day had been. Stretching his legs out off the edge of the roof he was perched on, he let out a slow breath.

In the past couple of weeks, things had gone to hell and back again, ending with Thorin and Bilbo reunited. The death of Azog in his current life was nothing short of disappointingly smoothed over, thanks to the connections that Thorin and his family had. 

He suspected that at least a small part of it was also due to the interference of the two wizards that he knew were on their side.

As for Saruman, he wasn't sure about him.

The nightmares he still had told him that he was still being held responsible for what he had done in the past, but now it was a little easier to sleep at night. Something had loosened up inside his chest, the ice cold hands clenching around him retreating slightly.

The phantom echo of wings still itched at his back, spine curving with the parts of him that he no longer had.

"In payment for what I've done." he breathed, eyes closing as he rolled his shoulders, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in his throat. 

They snapped back open when he heard noises coming from the alleyway a little bit further than where he stood.

Tilting his head, Smaug climbed down the side of the short building, claws leaving minute scratches in the red brick wall. Moving almost silently, the swish of his jacket the only giveaway, Smaug found the alley the noises were coming from, leaning against the wall at the entrance and peeking around the corner.

There, at the back of the alley, was a group of young men, one of them holding a bag at an angle that suggested he had torn it from someone's shoulder.

Nostrils flaring at the scent of blood, Smaug turned the corner, clearing his throat. Readying a hand, claws curled so that he could strike if needed, he called out. "And what is it that you happen to be doing?"

The one thing he would never be rid of was the satisfaction gained by the terror he could still generate by appearing out of seemingly nowhere.

One of the men held up his hands as he backed away, the up-down flick of his eyes and the widening of them showing just how afraid he was. "We weren't doing anything, dude. We were just discussing something."

"Oh, really." Smaug straightened his spine, cocking his head at a predatory angle. "Then why is he covered in blood?"

The one holding the bag piped up. "It's none of your business, old guy. We're just fuckin' friends, discussing a friendly matter."

A growl starting in the back of his throat, Smaug stepped closer, reveling in the scent of fear racheting up just a little more. "I would suggest you leave."

The one who had spoken first opened his mouth, presumably to argue, but Smaug pressed into his personal space, eyes narrowing. "I would also suggest that you do not 'discuss' this particular matter with your victim again. I know a monster when I see one."

Mouth snapping shut, the young man nodded, gesturing at the group and leading them out of the alley, some of them speeding up when they passed Smaug. Some of them, he noticed with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, were bruising up from what he guessed were the fists of the male they had decided to torment.

As the rest of them cleared out and the dust settled, silence reigned in the alley. 

The one who was left behind was on his knees, dragging papers back into the bag that one of them had dropped. Smaug shot a glance at the departing group and strode over to him, leaning down and holding out a hand.

The young man looked up at him, dark eyes wide. Lips parting, he frowned, then shook his head, gesturing at the papers still scattered all around him. 

"Are you alright?" Smaug asked quietly as he knelt on the ground next to him.

The younger man didn't look up, face falling as he caught sight of the blood dripping from his nose onto his arm. It wasn't until Smaug waved a hand into his line of sight that he looked up again, a frown creasing lines into his forehead. 

"Are you alright?" he asked again, the gears of his mind working furiously as he watched the smaller man. When he didn't respond beyond narrowing his eyes and leaning forward as if he were trying to focus on something, it finally clicked.

Inwardly cursing and hating that he couldn't remember much of the ASL language someone had once tried to teach him. (And oh, didn't it just burn that he couldn't remember something that was that useful.) Flexing his fingers for a moment, he hesitantly made his thumb and forefinger curl into what he thought was the sign for 'Okay', making sure to shrug, hoping that the man wouldn't think he was an idiot.

(Why was he concerned about that?)

Studying him for a moment, the younger held out a hand, waving it in an unsure manner. He let his hand drop back to his side after a few seconds, looked around one last time, then tried to stand.

It was, at best, an unsuccessful attempt.

At worst, it was a disaster.

Pitching back over, the only reason his face wasn't smashed against concrete and his head split open on the corner of a building was because Smaug caught him, fingers curling tightly around his almost-frighteningly small upper arms.

"Alright then." Smaug slung an arm around his waist, draping one of the younger man's arms over his own neck. Taking a step and hoping the boy would follow suit, Smaug started the short journey back out onto the street, where he hoped lip reading could occur.

Breathing a sigh of relief when the softly glowing streetlights hit his face and he spotted a bench, Smaug kept moving until they were next to it and he could deposit his armful onto it carefully. Wary of possibly broken bones and growing bruises, he knelt in front of him, making sure to angle his face in a way that the man would be able to see.

"Do you need me to call an ambulance?" he spoke slowly, making sure to shape each word as it left his mouth. The younger man hesitated, then let his fingers move in a slow motion over the large bruise already forming over his left eye. 

It was obvious that, whatever else had occurred, his head had been hit hard enough to knock him for a loop.

Not looking away, Smaug waited for an answer, a hand braced on the bench beside the man's knee, one knee on the concrete. 

Finally, an answer came, the younger man nodding his head slowly.

Smaug nodded back, then let his other knee rest on the ground as well, pulling a phone from his pocket.

(He had never thought he would be thankful for Frodo insisting he purchase one.)

Clicking the small keys to dial the correct number, he looked back up at the other, switching positions to sit next to him when he saw him looking off into space with a dazed look in his eyes. Jostling him carefully, Smaug caught ahold of one of his hands, tapping out a pattern on the back of it. 

After a moment, the man pulled his hand closer, laying it palm side up on his thigh, tapping out a decisive pattern on the smooth skin he found there.

They sat like that until the ambulance came, the sirens blaring loudly in the previously calm night air.


	2. To Escape What's Inside Me

Somehow, he wasn't sure, but somehow Smaug had ended up sitting in a brightly lit waiting room. 

Thinking back over what had happened, he slouched further into his chair, tangling his fingers together tightly and looking at the tips of his shoes. He had managed to get the younger man into an ambulance, and when asked if he wanted to go with them, he'd just stepped up into the vehicle and they had started off. From there, he had answered as many questions as he could about what had happened, and about the man himself. 

Neither of the medics had known much sign language, nor had the man been in any shape to communicate like that.

Smaug frowned at his feet, biting his bottom lip with surprisingly sharp teeth. Looking up when someone cleared their throat, he spotted a nurse with a hasty bun pulled at the back of her head and a concerned look on her face.

"Sir?"

Tilting his head, he waited. "Yes?"

"The man you arrived with, he's okay to...Well, he's allowed visitors now." she tucked a few stray strands of hair back behind an ear, smiling lopsidedly at him. 

Standing, Smaug nodded, vaguely confused at his own movements, and followed when she gestured for him to.

"It's lovely that you're willing to wait here at this hour for someone like this!" she babbled as they walked further into the hospital, passing signs here and there for different wards and rooms. Smaug grunted noncommittally as he followed along behind her, hands tucked into his pockets, balled into nervous fists.

She stopped at a door, knocked on it quickly, then turned back to him and smiled again. "I think it's awesome that you're here for your boyfriend this late at night." 

Without another word and no pause for him to contradict her, she turned on her heel and left his side, heading back to the nurse's station they had passed a few hallways back.

Jaw hanging open and feeling like his eyes were bugging out, Smaug looked between the departing woman's back and the door he stood before. Shaking his head quickly, he nodded, then opened the door slowly, allowing for discouragement from the person on the other side.

(Oh, but didn't he like the brief fire-warm vision in his mind, curled up with someone and holding onto them and keeping them safe?)

Smaug shook his head again, dispelling the thought, then turned to look at the room he entered.

For the most part, it was like every other hospital room he had ever been inside of, and he saw no difference other than the patient that was inside it. Waving when he noticed the man on the bed watching him, he gestured to a chair. When the other motioned for him to sit, he draped himself over the frame of it, almost sprawled across it.

Immediately, a notepad was thrust into his lap, a messy scrawl of words written across it.

_'I'm apparently your boyfriend. Did they assume that on your end as well?'_

Smaug choked slightly, covering his face with one hand. Nodding, he held his hand out for the pen, placing the tip of it on the paper.

_'Yes. Unfortunately, she didn't leave me time to respond before she walked away.'_

He handed it over, scratching idly at his jaw. A flash of warmth spread through his body at the sight of the younger man's hand moving across the page as he wrote.

_'Pity. My name's Wilhem Espenson. I go by Will. What's yours?'_

Thinking for a moment, Smaug stared at the page, chancing a glance up at the younger man. Brown eyes focused on a spot on the bed, picking slowly at the fibers of the blanket. 

_'George Anasztaz. Are you alright?'_

Will read the writing, met his eyes and nodded, then penned a reply. Showing Smaug the page instead of handing it over, he tilted his head.

_'Nice to meet you George, thanks for saving me. Do you want to learn some sign language so that this is less awkward than it currently feels?"_

Smaug laughed, then nodded. 

 

Leaving the hospital several hours later, Smaug ran a hand through his hair as he waited for his ride. 

Will was delightful. End of sentence, change the subject. 

He was witty, the perfect mix of dry humor and sarcasm and mocking in his jokes. And the fact that he told them with a perfectly straight face, managing to tell them in written form...

Smaug felt his chest tighten at the thought of the younger man he had just left behind, closing his eyes against the wave of giddiness that rushed through him. Biting at his lip, he shook his head, ducking into the taxi that finally arrived and muttering an address. Quashing the feeling of loss as they pulled away, he looked at the hospital once more, watching it shrink into the distance.

Will was wonderful, and he was never going to see him again. 

Rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand, he gave vague answers when the driver tried to ask him about his day, mostly ignoring him in favor of looking out the window.

Pulling out his phone, he tapped a quick text out and sent it off, clutching the device tightly in one hand until the response came a few minutes later. 

A few minutes after that and they pulled up to the final location, Smaug handing over the fare in a daze and wandering out of the cab, up the walkway and to the front door.

Frodo opened it, eyes wide as he took in the sight before him. "Smaug? Are you alright?"

"I rather think he's not," Bilbo spoke from over the boy's shoulder, a half smile on his face. "Come on in, we've tea in the other room and there's plenty of food. I may insist that you eat some of it."

Smaug nodded, shuffling over the mat as he went, barely focused on where his feet were until he nearly tripped over the carpet edge. When he caught sight of it, Bilbo frowned at him. "This appears to be worse than I thought."

"What's happening?" Frodo piped up, eyes on the once-dragon.

Bilbo smiled in a patient way, resting a hand on Smaug's back. "My boy, I think that there are moments in life that are useful to remember what they look like. There are moments that leave you destroyed, moments that leave you new again, and moments that define you. Smaug appears to be having one that is all three, and I think it may be terrifying to him."

"I am a dragon," Smaug hissed, eyes focusing for the first time since he had arrived there, fingers curling into fists as he glared at the smaller man. He didn't fight it when Bilbo led him into the other room, where a still steaming kettle sat on the stove.

With a pitying look, Bilbo guided him to a chair, then turned to pull together a small plate of food. "Your mind has always, to me at least, seemed divided. A good part of it, seemingly the larger part, is holding tightly to that. You're a dragon, you're Smaug. If I asked you for a count of how many you killed with your flames and claws, you could tell me an exact number, couldn't you?"

"Yes." Smaug hissed again, the words gaining an elongated 's' sound as he spoke. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"I am getting there," Bilbo shook his head. "A little patience, if you could. Now, there is the matter of the other part of your mind. What's your name?"

"George Adrastus Anasztaz." Smaug answered quickly, then blinked in surprise. 

Bilbo nodded. "I thought so. You warned us that our past lives were in our heads, and that it may damage us in some ways, but you never heeded your own words, did you? You're not just Smaug, not anymore."

"It still feels like it holds true!" Smaug growled, picking up a small biscuit and pulling it apart. Chest heaving as he dismantled it, breathing heavily through his nose, he looked away from the shorter man. 

Leaning forward and resting a hand on his shoulder, Bilbo sighed. "It may indeed still be true, but you are nowhere near 'just Smaug' anymore. You haven't been for a very long time. You are human now, despite the changes wrought by the memory you retain and the strange physical ones that add to your life."

Breath catching in his throat, Smaug shook his head. "How does this even work? I am myself and not, I am human and not."

"You learn to deal with it," Bilbo pulled out a chair and plopped into it, setting a mug near Smaug's right elbow. "But in your case, I think you need to stop holding yourself responsible for what it is that you've done in the past."

"I-" 

"No. What you did in the past is in the past. You're human now, you cannot hold yourself to the same standards when you've switched species. Dragons, in mythology, are sometimes vicious, almost always intelligent, and somewhat murderous." Bilbo shook his head, propping his head up on a hand. "What I am trying to say is that you're still holding yourself accountable, despite the fact that it's been literally ages since and you've done so much more than destroy things."

Smaug's shoulders slumped. "Saving people does not excuse who I was."

"But..." both of them turned to look at Frodo, who stepped closer, eyes wide. "I think the question that needs to be asked, really, is 'Would you think about doing any of that now'?"

Bilbo smiled widely, proud of the younger boy. "Very good question."

It took a minute, but Smaug answered, albeit slowly. "No. I would not. That much destruction and loss, only because I felt like it? I wouldn't."

"Then yes, you are still you, and what you did in a different life was horrible, but you aren't him now even though you retain the memories." Bilbo turned his smile on Smaug, patting softly at the back of one of his hands. "Now, about this man you met."

Smaug's face instantly softened as he thought about him. "It is sudden. It is strange and it is sudden and I do not know where it came from."

"Tell me about him?" 

"His name is Wilhem. He goes by Will." Smaug sat up straighter, tracing a finger around the rim of his mug, a small smile on his own face. "I met him when I had to chase off a group of attackers. They had decided to corner him in an alleyway, and they beat him until he was bloody. They would not let him run away, so he fought back.

"As far as I can tell, he bruised several of them before they knocked him down. The doctors were saying something about a concussion."

Frodo raised his eyebrows at that, eyes wide. "Why doctors? What exactly ended up happening?"

"I took him to the hospital." Smaug shrugged. "His head was bleeding, his responses were slow, I managed to get him to understand I was asking if he needed medical help and his response was yes."

"What do you mean you 'managed' to get him to understand?" Bilbo took a cautious sip of his own tea, listening intently.

Smaug looked up at the smaller man, the small smile morphing into a bit of a grin. "I do not remember much sign language, despite it being taught to me in several lives. It is considerably more difficult to talk to him without it."

"Oh!" Frodo laughed. "Is he deaf?"

"Yes." rolling his shoulders, Smaug nodded, chancing a sip of his tea now that Bilbo had. "It was lucky that he knew lip reading and was aware enough that he could put that knowledge into practice. When he was sitting in the hospital bed, because they decided he needed to stay for observation, he taught me some sign language."

"You stayed until they were alright with him sleeping, didn't you?" Bilbo looked smug, hands wrapped around his mug of tea. "Until the very last possible minute you could get away with."

"I did. It is a pity I will never see him again." 

Bilbo made a face, then sighed. "And I hesitate to ask, but why won't you see him again?"

"Because he is-" Smaug struggled for words for a moment, then shook his head. "I am sure he does not wish for my company beyond what has already occurred. I do not want or wish to press myself into his life if he does not wish for it."

"Smaug." Frodo hugged his shoulders, small frame managing to get a decent reach on the bigger man. "He was teaching you sign language. I think he might want you around. At the very least, go see him at the hospital again. Take some food that's not hospital food to him."

"Hospitals have lovely food." Smaug muttered.

Frodo snorted as Bilbo chuckled. "That may be, but I think that the gesture may still be effective."

"The both of you have strange reasoning and possibly stunted problem solving." Smaug accused them, a frown on his face. "Just because he was teaching me something so that he would not have to write the words down does not mean that he wants me anywhere near him."

"Just trust us on this, alright?" Bilbo nodded. "Take him something that the hospital doesn't have, take him a card, talk to him again. I almost guarantee that your presence will be welcomed."

 

xXxXx

 

Entering the hospital, Smaug felt conspicuous and out of place, a bag wrapped around one of his arms as he strode up to the front desk and signed in as a visitor.

The nurse from the night before was nowhere to be seen.

Smaug was thankful for that small favor, his heart climbing higher in his chest as he walked the hallways towards Will's room. A minute passed before he chanced opening the door, peeking his head around it slowly.

There, sitting on the bed, sat Will.

Not unexpectedly, Smaug thought, waving as he questioningly gestured at the room and himself. When Will nodded, waving him forward, he crept closer, pulling the bag from his arm and sitting in the chair he had been in several hours before.

The first thing pulled from the bag was a card, neat lettering wishing a speedy recovery to the recipient. 

Will smiled, his serious countenance mellowing slightly with the change of expression.

"This..." Smaug muttered, smiling back at him. "Is such a bad idea. How did Bilbo manage to convince me of this?"

Heart in his throat, he pulled out a small notebook, starting their conversation with:

_'How has your morning gone?'_

Shrugging, Will scrawled the pen across the paper after Smaug handed one to him. 

_'Less boring now that you're here.'_

Smaug felt his cheeks heat up, eyes wide as he looked closely at the paper, clicking the pen as he thought about what to say.

When he didn't write anything for a while, Will took the paper back, hastily writing something. When he finished, he lay it down in front of Smaug and looked away.

_'Sorry, was that a bit too much? I've always been terrible at flirting.'_

Looking up at Will, Smaug shook his head, picking up the paper and shielding his writing. Finally, when he sat up and handed it over to Will, he smiled at him.

_'Not too forward, no. A friend of mine told me that the reason you were teaching me sign language was because you wanted me to come back to see you. I wasn't sure of it, but he made me do it.'_

_'I'm glad that he did,'_ Will scrubbed a hand through his hair, allowing Smaug to catch a glimpse of the paper, sentence unfinished. _'I think I would have dwelled if you had never returned. Not in the stalker way, but in a "definitely should have done or said more" kind of way.'_

Smaug grinned, sharp teeth catching slightly on the edge of his lip.

_'Well that would have definitely been a sad thing, for I would have done the same.'_

 

xXxXx

 

The days passed fairly slowly after that, the trickle of time slowing down to a steady drip as they continued meeting. 

Here and there, Smaug felt a tightness in his chest as he watched the younger man communicate with him. He was progressing quickly in his lessons, still stumbling over some of the language, but progressing nonetheless. Will would reward his fumbled attempts with soft kisses to whatever portion of his face was the closest at the moment. 

Another reward that he loved was that Will would teach him using knowledge about himself.

Over the course of about a month, he learned that the man was a college student, he worked in a garage and at his mother's fishing shop. He learned that Will loved books and being able to effortlessly understand what they were telling him. When they had dinner together, he found out that he was allergic to shrimp and that he preferred beef to chicken. 

Within a month, Smaug knew that Will made a scrunched up face when he was drinking hot things that had whipped cream on top, the thick topping getting on the tip of his nose. Memories of hatred and death and glee at the misfortune of others were being overwritten by the knowledge of what Will's face looked like when it snowed and what his favorite shampoo smelled like and what he wore when he was feeling exhausted and ready to fall asleep standing up. Somehow, deep in the fog of himself as a dragon and himself as a man ready to be hanged for his crimes, Smaug had cleared a spot and dedicated it to being happy with Will. They fought, of course, but they would always make up and hold hands until they fell asleep on Will's couch together.

The leaves on the trees outside were turning an assortment of colors when Smaug realized what was happening. 

 

"Isn't it good that you're forgiving yourself?" Bilbo asked, running a hand through his hair, head tilted to the side.

Smaug curled his arms tighter around his head. "I just-" he cut himself off, heaving a heavy sigh as he shook. "It feels like it is not fair for me to just...Lay down the guilt and wander off."

"It sounds to me like you're in love with him, actually." Thorin spoke at last, eyeing the former-dragon carefully, still distrustful of him.

Hissing, Smaug drew himself upright, eyes narrowed. "It has been four months at this point."

"I knew within three weeks that I loved Bilbo." Thorin countered, scooting a hot mug towards Smaug. "Drink your tea."  
Wrapping his thin fingers around the mug, he shuddered at the warmth coming from it. "It feels out of place that I should be so enamored of him when we have just met and are barely dating."

"So tell me," Bilbo leaned in between his lover and his tentative friend. "How many nights of the past week have you spent at his house? How many has he spent at yours?"

Smaug shook his head, bringing the mug to his lips, then spoke into his tea. "All but one..."

"Sometimes these things just happen." Bilbo assured him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes you just...Fit with someone and they stay in your life."

"It doesn't feel like something I deserve." Smaug whispered.

Bilbo scoffed. "Everyone deserves happiness. There isn't really a way to earn it. You should always be able to have it."

"What if my own mind is telling me that I do not deserve it, and that I am unworthy of any of the good in my life?" Smaug set his mug down, still holding on to it with one hand, the other covering his face as he tried to breathe around the sorrow in his chest.

Realization dawned on Bilbo's face, and he shooed Thorin out of the room, then returned to his seat. "Smaug, has anyone ever talked to you about getting diagnosed with depression? Not you as a dragon, but the being you are in this life. As George."

The yellow eyes that were always going to startle him widened and peered across the table at him. Slowly, Smaug shook his head, curling in smaller as he looked at the former-hobbit. "I did not think that it would be an issue. As a dragon, it was not." If the hot prickling that was going on behind his eyes was any indication, he was going to be crying soon.

"It's a human condition." Bilbo stood and walked around the table until he was standing next to Smaug, then lay a hand on his head, massaging gently. "It's been studied in numerous species."

"I did not..." Smaug almost choked on the words, tears starting to blur his vision as he looked away from the shorter man. "I am a dragon. I am-" He shook his head again, fist clenching tightly as he stood and pushed back from the table. "Do not treat me as if I were your child!" he snarled, voice wavering as he growled. "I am nothing so weak!"

Bilbo waited, leaning on the table, watching him with sympathy in his entire posture. "I never said you were either of those things, and I have certainly never thought them."

"Then why," Smaug's back hit the wall, both of his hands going into his hair and tugging. "Are you treating me like this?"

"Because everyone sometimes needs help." Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest, shrugging. "It's not a sign of weakness, and it's definitely not something that will destroy you. I'm just afraid that you're going to start pushing Will away because you're feeling undeserving of him."

"Why would you be afraid of that?" Smaug hissed quietly as he slid down the wall, letting himself hit the floor. 

Bilbo walked over to him then, kneeling next to him and hugging him. "Because you're happy with him. Believe it or not, but I care that you're happy. You're a friend, and I want you to be happy."

Claws digging into the floor, Smaug let himself go limp into the hug, sobs starting to wrack his body as he did so.

Letting him cry, Bilbo rearranged them until Smaug's head was in his lap and he could pet through the man's hair, scratching at his scalp until finally the tears subsided and it felt like Smaug was asleep.

Quietly, the door to the kitchen opened, admitting Thorin again. When he spotted Bilbo sitting on the floor with the former-dragon in his lap, his eyes went wide. "Bilbo!"

Glaring at him, Bilbo shook his head, a finger to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo...
> 
> Bet you didn't see that coming.
> 
> (Tell me in the comments if you did.)


	3. I've Turned Into A Monster.

'Are you alright?' 

Smaug nodded, setting his bag down on the floor next to the chair he was claiming, flopping himself ungracefully into the soft comfort of it with a sigh. When he sat up a little bit, he looked over at Will. 

'Yes,' he began, then paused. With a small nod, he started again. 'I've just had a bit of a week.'

Will leaned forward, bringing forth a steaming mug of something, sliding it into the surprised fingers of his boyfriend. 'I asked, they said that you're something of a regular customer here, so they already knew what drink you liked.'

With a small smile, Smaug tucked his arms against his sides, lifting the mug to his nose and letting his eyes drift closed. The scent of chocolate and espresso hit him like a fog, pulling his mood firmly back into the territory of good. When he opened his eyes again, his smile grew even larger. Setting the mug down, he twisted his fingers about until the question on the tip of his tongue transferred to his hands.

Nodding, Will leaned forward, pressing their lips together softly.

Behind them, Smaug could hear Nori chuckle, probably hanging close enough to Bofur that he could steal his own kisses from his boyfriend, thief that he was. Rolling his eyes, he leaned in closer, savoring the warmth that poured off of his own boyfriend, a purring noise rolling from the back of his throat.

Eventually, however, the kiss had to end, and the subject he needed to tell Will about had to be brought to light.

When they pulled back, he looked down at the small side table that their drinks were currently sitting on. Taking a deep breath, he looked up, still half curled around himself. If the chair he was sitting in allowed it, he would have had his knees pulled up to his chest. 

'I need to talk to you about some things.' he signed slowly, fingers stumbling over some of the words. 'The severity of it depends on your point of view, and it may alter how much longer you wish to be around me.'

Will didn't respond other than waving a hand for him to continue.

'I have been speaking with a-" he broke off, then cleared his throat, picking the words back up from when he had dropped them. 'A friend of mine. I thought I was doing well, and that I was alright, but we spoke and he has made me question some things.'

Looking slightly nervous, Will nodded, leaning forward in his seat, hands clasped together in his lap. 

'I have decided that I need to start seeing a doctor.' Smaug added the words slowly, half sure that he would get them wrong and need to start again. 'If what seems to be happening is what is happening, then I may be diagnosed with depression, and that may result in medication.'

Will's eyes went wide as he sat up straight, jaw dropping into a soft 'O'. 

Letting his eyes drift closed again, Smaug turned away from him, one hand digging into his knee. Trying to focus more on the pinpricks of pain from his claws in his skin and less on the rush of his pulse thudding in his ears, he didn't notice that Will had moved until he felt hands on either side of his face.

Golden eyes snapped open, meeting the warm brown of Will's. 

The slighter man looked down at their knees for a moment, then picked the former-dragon up and out of his armchair enough to scoot in underneath him, replacing the older man in his lap once that was accomplished. Smaug's new position was such that his knees were hooked over the arm of the chair, with his arms in his lap and his head resting on Will's shoulder. The younger man's fingers were burrowing into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.  
Instead of turning about and snarling, like he could feel a part of himself demanding, Smaug relaxed into the position.

When Will signed at him, asking for a paper and pen, he sat up slightly, snagging his bag off the ground. Handing the two things over, he waited as his boyfriend wrote something out.

'I want you to know that I will always be here for you. I want you to be able to come to me about things like this. The reason I asked for pen and paper was because I think that you need this said to you in a way that you can revisit, even when we're not together. You are, almost alarmingly, worth so much to me. You make the days seem less lonely, and I swear that I have never seen the sun shine as brightly as it does when it surrounds you. I will be by your side during the dark days, and I will do my best to make sure that you make it through to see the light ones again.

I love you.'

When Smaug finished reading the note, he folded it carefully, tucking it into the pages of one of the books in his bag. Taking another deep breath, he tucked his face back into the crook of Will's neck, breathing in the scent of him until it was all he could smell. With one of Will's arms around his waist and the other wrapped around his upper back, he finally felt safe.

"You two doing okay?" came a cheerful voice from in front of them, causing Smaug's heart rate to tick upwards again, a heavy thud in his chest. When he turned to look, Bombur stood there, a couple of plates in his hands. 

Smaug nodded, then found his voice. "I think we are." he whispered, not leaving his spot in Will's lap.

Smiling, Bombur set the plates down on their little table, gesturing to them. "On the house. Experimental chocolates, with a very unconventional filling. They've been approved by most of the family, but now we want to get it to you and your beau here."

"...Most of the family?" Smaug's forehead wrinkled as he thought through it. "Is not- Who am I not counting when recollecting the group of you lot?"

Bombur leaned forward, patting his head. "We haven't seen you for a while, so it's a little hard to get you to try foods when you're not here." With that bomb dropped, he walked away. If Smaug had to guess, he would say that Bombur was completely aware of the overwhelming warmth in his chest and the tears prickling behind his eyes.

Will seemed aware of it, at least. 

A reassuring hand on his shoulder was followed by his drink being set carefully in his hands, the younger man taking a sip of his own after resettling. A soft smile twisted the edges of his mouth, a pleased look in his eyes.

The silence that stretched between them was just about as warm as the heat in Smaug's chest, a content and purring thing sitting in between that. Rather than pushing them apart, it seemed to draw them together.

Smaug closed his eyes, tucking his mug in closer to his face, small sips being drawn in and adding to his warmth.

For the first time he could remember, he felt like nothing more than a person. No memories of death hanging over him, no wings stretching from his back. The warmth flowing through him was not flame in his throat.

He was George Anasztaz, and he didn't have to be more than that.

xXxXx

 

The morning was dark and wet when Smaug wandered back into Bombur's cafe, spotting Ori and Dwalin sitting at a table in the corner. 

With a glance at the time, he nodded, changing course to say a brief hello to them. After Bombur had claimed he was a part of the family, he had begun to feel like speaking with them more than he previously had. Ori looked up first, grinning when he spotted the once-dragon, nudging Dwalin's ribs.

"Hey Smaug." he nodded, tucking his hair behind his ear. "How're you today?"

Smaug shrugged, setting his bag next to a spare chair and waiting for a moment. When he wasn't instantly shooed away, he sat down. "I am doing..." he shrugged. "I suppose I might describe it as Good."

A soft smile replaced the large grin on the librarian's face. "That is awesome." he replied, leaning his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand. 

"So what's this about yeh havin' a boyfriend?" Dwalin grumped, a hand resting comfortably on Ori's waist. "He got approval yet?"

"...Approval?" Smaug blinked a couple of times. "What do you mean?"

Dwalin snorted. "I had to face Ori's brothers, both of them dead set on me not bein' around their little brother. I had ta do this twice. You need ta send your boy through the family gauntlet." he hmm'ed, then nodded. "Ain't a fair thing if he doesn't go through the same. Bilbo had ta be approved, Nori had ta be approved, I had ta go through it. Yeh and he aren't gettin' off that easily."

With a roll of his eyes, Ori shook his head, turning to speak to the dragon. "Oh," he spoke softly, eyes growing wide. "I think we can continue this conversation at another time. Sm-George, you appear to have someone behind you."

"Hmm?" Smaug turned to look, smiling almost shyly when he spotted Will behind his chair. Waving hello, he launched into a series of signs, a soft flush to his cheeks. When Will nodded and signed something back, Ori's head tilted to the side. "Oliver, Demetrius..." Smaug turned back to them, a grin on his face. "This is Will."

Dwalin recovered first, offering a hand to the younger man. "Hello." he spoke shortly, with a small nod. Ori went next, almost numbly shaking the man's hand and focusing almost entirely on forming his words as he spoke. 

"Hello Will." he started out, eyes darting over the man's face. "It's good to meet you."  
Will nodded, then turned back to Smaug, retrieving his hand and signing something to his boyfriend.

As the two of them walked away, Ori watched them go. When they settled at a table, he turned to Dwalin, voice as quiet as he could make it. "Was that- Did that look like...?"

"It did." Dwalin muttered back, watching as discreetly as he could manage. Smaug looked happier than the former-dwarf had ever seen him. "I think we need ta tell Bilbo. And Thorin. It's not a bad thing, jus'-"

"It's worrying." Ori nodded, slipping his hand into Dwalin's, waving goodbye to his brother's boyfriend as they walked out the door. "Less in a bad way and more in a 'How did that happen without anyone noticing' way."

"History repeatin' fer the rest o' us, that's fine." Dwalin looked behind them as they walked to his car. "History repeatin' fer them?"

"Not good." Ori rubbed at his face, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Next order of business: How the HELL do we tell Smaug that his boyfriend murdered him before?"

"Are we sure that it's him?" Dwalin pulled away from him, circling around to his side of the car. "Can we tell?"

Ori waved at the cafe. "Well, it sure looks like him. I think, pretty much whole heartedly, that Smaug is dating Bard." he gestured randomly for a second, flailing as he tried to think of what to say. "Smaug the Dragon is dating Bard the Bowman. I think I really have to say 'Oh shit' right now."

"I think yeh're right about that." Dwalin spoke softly as they both slid into the car. 

 

xXxXx

 

"...What." Bilbo stared at Ori and Dwalin, gripping the back of the chair that was in front of him. Thorin's jaw was almost scraping the table, and Bilbo looked like someone had taken his good china and smacked him in the face with it before dropping it the ground to shatter. "What?"

Ori ran a hand through his hair, careful not to disturb the braid Dwalin had put in it. "I think that Smaug's boyfriend is Bard. Not that I think you didn't hear me the first time, but I think I need to keep saying it until it stops sounding real because there is no way that the world works out so that this happens."

"We like Bard though," Frodo piped up, frowning. "...Don't we?"

"We do, Lad." Dwalin spoke up, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "We jus' don't know how he'll react ta Smaug if he remembers suddenly, or if he'll ever remember or if any number o' things happens. We could be lookin' at a man who, when pushed inta rememberin', will snap and kill Smaug."

"And as much as we like Bard, I am fairly certain that we like Smaug more." Ori finished, covering his face with both hands as he leaned against the table and lay halfway down onto it. "Maybe? Yes? No? I do, at least."

"I do too." Frodo assured him, small hands reaching up to tug at his hair.

Dwalin lay a hand on Ori's back, trying to comfort the smaller man. "I am inclined ta agree with the two o' them. Smaug may have been a nightmare to deal with back when we were dwarves, but he has helped us time and again in recent years."

"That he has." Thorin rubbed at his eyes, his elbows on the table. Eventually, he gave up on rubbing at them and just let the heels of his palms cover his eyes and hold still, a frown present underneath. "I may not be entirely comfortable around him still, but he had helped more than harmed."

Making a face, Bilbo pulled the chair directly next to Thorin out from the table and sat down in it, rubbing at his cheek. "I think we need to tell him."

"We don't even know if Bard remembers or not." Thorin shook his head. "There is no sense in telling him if he doesn't remember."

"I am not talking about Bard," Bilbo shook his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at his boyfriend. "I am talking about Smaug. After all he has done to help us, it would be the right thing to do to tell him that his current significant other is the one who killed him when he was a dragon." he shrugged. "I would want to know."

Thorin's shoulders rose nearly to his ears. "What if that knowledge brings back the desire to-"

"You really shouldn't think that about him." Frodo spoke quietly, half glaring at his technically-uncle. "He's nicer than you seem to think he is. He wouldn't."

"...Would not what?"

The new voice made everyone turn. Even Ori, who had been half collapsed on the table sat up, eyes wide as he looked at Smaug standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

Frodo looked at all of the adults in the room, every last one of them seeming to have lost their voice in the moment it was needed. "Hey Smaug."

"Hello Frodo, I hope you are doing well." Smaug frowned, then gestured at the door. "It was unlocked, and no one was responding to my knocks. I am sorry if I have overstepped."

"You're fine," Frodo assured him, rolling his eyes at the others. "I have to tell you something. Actually, they need to tell you something, but they seem to be unable to do it, so it's going to be me, apparently." he stepped forward, taking the tall man's hand and leading him into the living room.

When they stood in the smaller of the two rooms, Frodo sat Smaug down on the couch, fluffing the curls of hair at the back of his own neck nervously. 

"Frodo?"

He shook his head, tucking one of his knees against his chest. "The man you're dating...We think that he's Bard." he took a deep breath, shrugging slightly and looking away. 

When he looked back up, Smaug was staring at the wall in a mixture of blank shock and utter terror. "He is Bard?" he whispered, turning his eyes on Frodo. When the young former-hobbit nodded, he looked away. After a moment, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around him, patting at his head. "Do not take this personally, little one, but I need to go now." The words were almost silent, but they seemed to echo in the room as Frodo watched the man gather his bag back up and walk out of the house.

The door closed behind him like the noise of a clock striking, a horrifying note of finality to it.

"You're all going to be wrong about how either of them reacts." Frodo called back to the rest of the people in the house, getting up from his perch and heading to his room. 

The rest of them were left sitting in a stunned silence, Bilbo wearing a half-smile that betrayed his pride over his nephew.

 

xXxXx

 

Smaug wandered the streets for a while, eyes wide but not actually seeing things as he walked.

A clenched feeling in his stomach made him regret eating anything that day, the utter desolation making him feel like he was drifting in an ocean of sadness. There was nothing on the horizon except more fear and hatred and sadness, and he wasn't entirely sure that he would do anything but drown in it. 

"He is Bard." Smaug muttered to himself, claws clenching into his palms, scratching up the skin and making pinpricks of blood appear. "Bard."

He nearly fell over when his foot caught on a low stair-step, the warm brown door in front of him suddenly seeming like a gaping mouth that would swallow him whole. Without realizing it, he had walked to Will's house, had almost fallen face-first into the door. Taking a deep breath, he allowed himself to sit down, fisting his hands into his eyes. An agonized whine came from his throat, a sob following it and choking him until he couldn't breathe.

Smaug would have been content to stay there, not breathing or moving, until he died.

The door behind him opened slowly, Will's foot almost hitting him in the back. When the other man spotted him on the stoop, he kneeled down, already reaching for his boyfriend's shoulder. 'George?' he signed at him, eyes wide as he tried to catch his attention. 'George!'

Looking up, face drawn and pale, Smaug met his eyes for a second, then looked away. "I did so much wrong." he whispered.

Will raised an eyebrow, then drew him closer, pressing his face against his chest and stroking his hair slowly. The two of them sat there for a moment before Smaug pulled back, wiping harshly at his eyes in an attempt to dry them. With a small sigh, Will pushed his hands away, wiping gently at the once-dragon's face to clear it of tears. 

"You didn't do anything wrong." Will spoke the words quietly, as if he were unsure of how they were supposed to sound.

Snapping completely upright, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, Smaug stared at him. It was then that he noticed the hardware around his boyfriend's ears. "...What?" he raised a careful hand, traced a finger through the air in the vague shape of the device, then let it drop back into his lap. 

"They're implants, they're supposed to help me hear." Will looked off to the side. "Until I met you, I had decided to avoid speech therapy and wearing them. I hated how they looked and I hated struggling with words. And then I met you, and I just-" he trailed off, then leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to the bridge of Smaug's nose. "Now, what is all this about you doing so much wrong?"

The words, thick with disuse and stubbornness, made Smaug tear up again.

"I have wronged you, I have lied to you, I did everything wrong." Smaug looked away from him, closed his eyes, dug his fingers into his scalp until he could feel pinpricks of blood welling up under his claws. "Do you remember?"  
"Remember what?"

"A clever little hobbit and a stubborn-minded king." Smaug hissed, "A foolish journey to reclaim the mountain his father had ruled, and the quest that ended with the royal line all but destroyed." He could feel Will pull back, could feel the cold spots on his skin where the man's hands were no longer touching him. Trying to take a breath, Smaug turned away from him, jamming his elbows into his knees just to feel the little shock of pain that followed. "You do, don't you?"

"I do." Will shifted, the sound of his shoes scuffing across the ground as he moved. "Why do you?"

Smaug laughed. "Because, it seems, I will never be out of the shadow of who I was that reached such disasterous heights." he opened his eyes. Will sat next to him on the stairs, a hand on one of his knees like he had been about to reach out and hold onto the former dragon.

"I think we need to go inside." The younger man gave him a look, narrowed eyes making Smaug's throat clench tightly against any attempt at breathing.

"Alright."

He stood slowly, let Will go ahead of him, gave himself a second to follow. Briefly, he thought of turning away, of running until he couldn't move anymore, then running even further once he could. 

A part of his mind hissed at him for that thought, a traitorous little part that whispered, 'It would not help.'

With a deep breath that choked him, Smaug followed slowly, almost dragging his feet as he moved. Finally getting inside, he closed the door behind him, avoiding eye contact with the man he had fallen in love with. "You may remember me as a monster." he spoke, out of habit, carefully, forming each word precisely as it left his mouth.

"Why would I remember you as a monster?" Will crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall and studying him. Despite the words he was saying, he still kept his distance, as if he already knew.

"Because is that not what dragons are?" Smaug asked him miserably. Finally, yellow eyes rose from the floor and met the warm brown ones that belonged to the man he had come to love. "All dragons are monsters, and there is no better cure for them than a knife in the heart or an arrow in their side."

Will, dear sweet Will, even tempered Will with the patience of a thousand old men, went almost limp against the wall, arms dropping to his sides as he gaped at his boyfriend. "You were Smaug." he spoke the words hardly above his breath, as if saying them any louder would bring about a curse.

"And you were Bard." Smaug broke their eye contact, looked at his hands, his feet, the floor, felt the wings at his back crumble into nothing more than ash and shadow, felt himself longing to crumble as well. "Bard the Bowman, Bard the King, Bard who ruled his lands in fairness and as much serenity as he could bring his people to accept." he closed his eyes again, as if he was willing himself out of existence. "Bard the Just, Bard the Kind. Bard, the slayer of dragons and ill will."

Will,

(Or was it Bard now? Could Will be claimed as the maker of that facial expression?)

stared at him, mouth gaping and eyes wide. He cleared his throat, then coughed into a hand, drew himself off of the wall and onto his own feet. "You know of my reputation after your death." he finally spoke again, fingers twisting together in knots. "Do you know about to origin of dragons?"

"Dragons are born out of misery and greed," Smaug shook his head. "We do not get to remember where we are from."

"Dragons are not so much born," Will interrupted his train of thought, "As they are made. Gold sickness gets into their mind so fiercely, so tightly, that they are never freed from it. Those infected, if they live long enough, become dragons. Once upon a time, Smaug the dragon, you were another species entirely."

Smaug looked up at him then, his own eyes wild and wide. "What?"

Will crossed the room, put his arms around him, drew his head to his shoulder and pressed his lips to the man's neck. "You may have been a dragon for a long time, and you may have been destroyed as one, but you, my dear, are not a monster." he kissed the patch of skin he could reach, the abnormally warm flesh beneath his lips making him smile. "You are, as of the time you were born into this life, George Anasztaz. You are going to remain George until the day you die. I would hope, very much so, that you are willing to spend a good many of those years with me."

Smaug drew back, feeling something unfamiliar stretching across his face. "I think I would like that."

"Good." Will nodded. "Now, you're being entirely too sad, so you need to come with me now because I was planning on dragging you here anyways later today, so there's a thing that's happening in the kitchen for you."

The two men paused, Smaug's grin making him look several years younger than he actually was. "How do you know I was someone else?"

"What?" Will gave him a look, a hand dropping low on his waist as they walked together. "You think you're the only one to do research after things had settled a little?" he chuckled, then rolled his eyes. "Not a chance." With that said, he leaned over and swept Smaug into his arms, the man's knees hooked over his elbow.

"Will!" Smaug squeaked in surprise, clutching at his boyfriend's arm tightly, a flush rising on his face as he was carted into the kitchen. 

The man smirked at him, then kissed his cheek. "You were moving too slowly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Please don't kill me.
> 
> In between NaNoWriMo, life things, and a couple of mental breakdowns, I had a bit of a time writing this chapter. 
> 
> Fortunately, Smaug and Will don't have to deal with the after effects of my depression trying to take over. So they get a happy thing happening, although I was so close to just making it agonizingly angsty.
> 
> Tell me what you think?


	4. I'm So Glad You're You

When George woke up the next morning, it was to an empty half of a bed where Will usually slept.

Despite it being empty, it was still warm, and for a moment, he could feel a whine building in the back of his throat. When he moved his other hand to where his boyfriend had slept, George noticed a note stuck to the back of it.

The note was in the shape of a cheery yellow cartoon duck, a blue eye smiling up at him. It read, in Will's almost formal handwriting, 'Good morning. Breakfast is downstairs when you're ready. How'd you sleep?' 

George grinned at it, peeling it off the back of his hand and sticking it to the table instead, swinging his legs out from underneath the blanket and feeling the soft carpet under his toes. Humming contentedly for a moment, he stood up and stretched slowly, then walked across the room and pulled off the shirt he had borrowed to sleep in. With that accomplished, he opened the half of the closet that had been designated as 'His' and nearly fell over laughing with he was met with the sight of several more ducks, all bearing bright red hearts on their sides.

Leaning in, George felt a warm flush on his face as he saw the ones that were stuck to the back wall that spelled out 'I love you'. 

When he pulled out a soft red sweater and a pair of dark jeans, he was almost un-surprised to find more of the ducks stuck to them. The one on the sweater read, 'I knew you were going to pick this today'.

The one on the jeans read, 'And these make your ass look terrific'.

George hid his face in one hand, clutching his clothes to his chest with the other. "Will, you are being ridiculous." he whispered, grinning all the same as he pulled them on, fluffing his hair into the chaotic black mess of curls he normally tried to restrain. With that accomplished, he almost turned away from the closet, a hand on the door to pull it closed, when something caught his eye. 

Down on the floor, tucked into the corner and nearly impossible to see in the shadows that his clothes cast, stood a pair of slippers with eyes on the toes and soft teeth made of felt on the opening. They were red, and they matched his sweater perfectly, and they looked comfortable, with a fleece lining in a darker shade of red. Pausing for a moment, George studied them with an eyebrow raised, then shrugged and pulled them on. When he looked down at the effect the dragon slippers had on his outfit, he rolled his eyes and focused entirely on what the inside of them felt like.

The slippers themselves were warm, but Will had apparently put foot warmers in them as well.

Laughing again, George headed for the door, blushing brightly as he headed for the stairs. Lining the walls were a couple of strings of paper hearts, an impossible amount of sparkles coating them. From the kitchen, he caught the scent of bacon and eggs, and the smell of garlic wafting through the air alongside them.

When he turned the corner, he spotted Will at the stove.

The younger man was wearing an almost shimmering silver-blue long sleeved shirt and jeans. On his feet, George noticed as he turned, were a pair of shark slippers, complete with tails on the heels of them. "I slept well, thank you." he wiggled a foot at his boyfriend, hands tucking into his pockets. "Your idea of a laugh?"

"Well," Will began, a grin on his face. "I bought them before I knew you had been Smaug. I'm just hoping that it's not a bad thing." he gestured at George's feet with the skillet he had in his hands. "You're always cold, even when the heat's on and you're wrapped in blankets. I figured that maybe slippers would help." he turned around again, settling the pan back on the stove. "Are they alright?"

"They're very warm." George rounded the table, wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and kissed his shoulder. "I like them."

Will beamed at him, then turned in his arms and pulled him closer. "So I'm going to guess that you forgot what day it is." he waited a moment, then nudged at George's cheek with his nose when the man didn't answer. "It's Valentines day." he reminded him, sliding a hand up into his hair. "I was going to talk to you for the first time today, but things went differently and that is not at all a bad thing."

George frowned, pulling back slightly. "I apologize for forgetting the date." he whispered, looking away. When Will shook his head, he looked back. "What-"

"I was just reminding you." Will assured him. "I had a dinner planned for today, and I was going to take you out for it, but if you're not in the right mindset for that, then we can stay in and watch the mindless drivel that comes on tv during Valentines."

Smiling, George nodded, his hands coming up to twist together behind Will's shoulders. "If you are willing to put up with me, then I am willing to have dinner with you." 

"It's less putting up with and more the fact that I love you." Will corrected him, then leaned in to kiss his jaw. "Also, I got a text earlier, about how I need to pass the exam that your family is putting on and is going to make me go through."

With a string of foul words running through his mind, George dropped his face into Will's shoulder. "They want to make sure that they approve of you. Oliver's boyfriend had to go through the gauntlet and so did Thomas and so did William, and now they want to make you go through it." he pulled back again, sitting at the table this time. "I will understand if you do not wish to deal with the hassle of anything in my life."

"You," Will began, pulling breakfast off the active stove top and setting it aside. "Need to understand something very simple."

When George looked up, he nodded. "It's not even close to a hassle to have to do anything relating to you. If I had to climb a mountain to be close to you, I would. I enjoy having you in my life, and I meant what I said about hoping that you'd share it with me."

George tucked some of his hair behind his ear, a bright smile on his face. "You-"

"Are willing to do whatever it takes." Will sat down in the chair next to him, wrapping an arm around his back. "And I will do what it takes to make you understand that."

"...How did I manage to get you in my life?" George asked, wonder in his voice as he propped his chin on one hand. "What did I do to earn this? It can't have been anything I did back when we first met."

Will rolled his eyes. "I don't think that you earned happiness. I think that you just allowed yourself to have it, despite everything you were putting yourself through." he made a face. "Does that make sense?"

"I think it does, yes." George shrugged. "So why have you never worn your hardware before?"

"I believe that I said a little about it yesterday, right?" Will waited for him to nod, then sighed. "I had, until I met you, sworn off speech therapy. It was making me angry, it made me feel useless, and the implants themselves were...Irritating. Constantly so." he shrugged, then stood and started pulling plates out of the cupboards for something to do with his hands. "I stopped going to therapy about a month before you and I met. I stuck to speaking in sign language, I refused to wear the outer parts of my implants.

"It was frustrating and tiring and it did not make life easier in some regards because I still had to deal with the idiots I go to school with." Will slowly picked up the spatula he had been using to cook the food, tapping the neck of it against the palm of his hand. "The very same idiots that you rescued me from." he looked at George then, eyes filled with wonder at the thought. "A man who jumped in to save someone he had never met before. You have to understand, part of the reason I argue so vehemently against you saying you're a monster is because I have never once seen you act like one."

"What made you go to therapy again?" George swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat.

Will smiled at him. "You did." he shrugged, sitting down with the plates of breakfast food. "I met you and we talked and you seemed so eager to learn how to speak to me when I offered, and then you showed back up when you had no reason to and I must admit, I would have told you I loved you then if I could have mustered the courage for it." he leaned forward in his seat, pressing his forehead against George's. 

George grinned, leaning in as well, tucking his hands under the hem of Will's shirt. "You drew me in." he thought for a moment, his grin fading slightly. "Does that mean that you've been practicing and going to therapy this entire time?"

"We've been together nearly nine months," Will counted back on his fingers, humming as he did so. "So almost the entire time. We were a month into the relationship when I decided to go back. Before that, it had been almost my entire life filled with therapy and speech lessons."

"You went back because of me." George tilted his head to the side, grin coming back full force. "Do I inspire that much motivation?"

"You inspire that much want to hear your voice." Will laughed. "I knew, the moment I found out that you talked in your archaic style, that your voice would be beautiful. I was not disappointed."

The former dragon's cheeks lit up at that, a pretty flush coloring them and making Will laugh. 

"Well," George began, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought about something. "I admit that I am- I must- I-" he stuttered over the start of several things he might have said, then smiled, ducking his head and peeking up at Will from underneath his hair. "I don't know what to say." he cleared his throat, one hand tucking hair behind his ear as he looked away. "I don't think I've ever- That is to say, I don't remember..."

Will nudged their foreheads together. "You can say it later. Whatever it is that needs to be said, you can say it when you have the words for it."

With a nod, George let out a shaky breath, shoulders curling forward to shield their faces. "Thank you." he whispered, eyes drifting closed as they sat there, hands curled tightly around the seat of his chair. Will nodded, taking his hands in his own, wrapping their fingers together. 

 

xXxXx

 

"So," Bilbo began, crossing one leg over the other, clasping his hands together as he leaned back in his armchair. "You're dating Smaug."

George slapped a hand over his face, leaning forward to reach for his boyfriend. Dwalin grabbed his hand before it could reach the younger man's arm, pushing him back against the wall. Once he got there, Ori wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading him to the kitchen. "Come on," he whispered, "I don't know if you'll want to know what they're saying to him."

The two of them were met with Nori and Bofur when they reached the kitchen. Bombur, much like he had done months before, was waiting with an assortment of bowls and ingredients. "Thought we'd make some pastries while we wait." he explained, handing an empty bowl and a wooden spoon to the former dragon.

"I do not want to leave him alone with them!" George squeaked, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt.

Instead of his usual trench coat and dark clothing, Will had managed to get him to dress in a light purple button-down shirt, rolled up to the sleeves, paired with trousers that were a charcoal grey. The effect was a light color palate, and a softer tone to the man who wore them. 

The man himself was also a bit healthier looking, the hollows of his face filled in, almost forcefully, when he become Bombur's unofficial-official taste tester.

George, instead of being the gaunt, pale skinned man with yellow eyes that they had met, seemed entirely at home with the bowl in his arms. "You could have left me in the room to make sure that he would survive their interrogation."

"Nonsense!" Bofur laughed. "We haven't lost one o' their victims yet!"

With a roll of his eyes, George took up a spot on the counter, reaching immediately for the ingredients Bombur had made him memorize. "Should I just make a basic dough," he turned to the heavier man, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Or are we trying something different?"

Bombur chose to stand next to him, his own bowl in his arms as he grinned at the former-dragon. "We're just mixing up a basic dough, making some filled treats. Kili and Fili are insisting that yours are better than mine, so I suppose we ought to have you make some for them." he plunked a bag of flour on the counter between them. "Come on then, lad. Get to it."

He toddled off to the other side of the kitchen for a moment, leaving George to roll his eyes again and listen for the words he could barely hear from the living room.

"Now now," Bofur set a speaker on the counter, music streaming from it. "It's rude to listen in."

With a soft growl, George went back to mixing ingredients together slowly, studiously ignoring the former-dwarf. After a little while of listening to the music that Bofur had chosen to almost blast, his hands working almost effortlessly as he mixed the dough together, he found himself humming along as a smile stretched his lips.

"Somehow," he began speaking in a whisper, knowing that the rest of the kitchen was listening. "I wound up with a family, friends, and someone I love."

"Maybe, when you get him back from the terror that is an overprotective hobbit," Bofur leaned close enough to give him a rough, one armed hug. "You should tell him that. I've found that it does wonders for making things a bit closer between two people in a relationship."

George shot a look at him, smirking now. "Who says I haven't?"

"Oh!" Ori shot upright from where he was leaning against the wall. "It's going to be Frodo's birthday soon!"

"Oh?" George echoed, an eyebrow raised. "How soon is 'soon', and do I have enough time to prepare a gift?" he hummed something, a tune that was scratching at the back of his throat the longer he stayed around the family had gained. 

Ori nodded. "Soon is three weeks. And then it's been seven months since Azog's bullshit." he shrugged at the look his brother gave him. "We've already gone over this, Nori."

"I know, I know." Nori scruffled Ori's hair, messing up everything but the careful braid that was hanging by the side of his face. "Grown up and everything, allowed to drink and swear and possibly get married to his big ol' bear of a man." he grinned at the blush on Ori's face. "Or are you waiting for a while longer?"

"If what I heard about them is true, they're technically already married." Bombur interjected, as if he were trying to save the younger man some embarrassment. "Or does it not carry over, life to life?"

"Why would it?" Nori raised an eyebrow at him.

Bombur grinned at him. "Because if we're discussing your brother, we might as well discuss mine." he cackled gleefully at the choked noise that come from Nori's throat after that, gesturing for Ori to follow him. "There must be clean dishes, else Bilbo will be doing some scolding."

With a grin back at the older man, he followed obediently.

George, still messing around with the pastry dough, went back to humming along with the music Bofur had left playing. It wasn't until a hand fell onto his shoulder that he realized the room had been vacated except for him. "Wha-" he was cut off as someone spun him around, pinning him to the counter.

Will pressed their foreheads together, his hands resting softly on his hips. "Hello." he spoke softly, eyes crinkling up at the edges as he smiled.

"Hello." George tucked his chin down, closer to his chest, so that he could meet Will's eyes. "Survived the interrogation then?" he asked, just slightly breathlessly. "Or am I speaking with a ghost?" he nudged a flour covered knuckle against Will's shoulder. "I mean, you seem solid enough." 

With a happy little sigh, Will inched closer, breaking their eye contact so that he could bury his face in George's shoulder. 

"Did good things happen in your talk with them?" George tried, an eyebrow raised as he braced his own hands on the edge of the counter. 

"Mhm."

Both eyebrows raised now, George looked down, trying to meet his eyes again. "What is going on tonight?" he asked quietly. "Did I-"

"You look beautiful." Will spoke finally, an edge of awe to his voice. "You're covered in flour, and your hair is in the stubby tail that it's finally long enough for, and you're barefoot and you looked so happy when I walked in that I had to be close to you. I had to make sure that you weren't just something I dreamed up." his chin moved from where it was wedged againt George's chest. "I had to feel your heartbeat because I swear that I should be waking up right now, sad and alone, in my too big house."

"Oh." George whispered, his eyes going wide, pupils noticeably more circular than they had been several months before. "...Oh!"  
"You're brilliant, I know you are." Will continued on, his own eyes clenched shut. "And I'm fairly certain that you know what I want to ask you before I actually ask it. I also know that if you really objected to it, you would have pulled away from me the moment you realized what it is that I wanted to ask you."

With a fond smile, George nodded. "You are rambling, dearest."

"I wanted to ask you to move in with me." Will rushed the words out, one hand's fingers tucked into the pocket of George's trousers. "And I'm hoping that you'll say yes because I really enjoy waking up to you. Your hair does this magnificent fall across the pillow and when I wake up, there's still a barely risen sun in the sky, so you're lit up by the golds and reds and pinks of it, and it makes you glow." he finally leaned back, stood up straight so that he could see George's eyes. "I am only twenty-three, but I know that I have never felt this way.

"I doubt I will ever feel this way ever again." he whispered the words this time, tracing his free hand over George's face. "I'm not ready to propose anything else just yet, and I don't know if you're ready to hear it, but when we're both ready we can talk about it."

"Forgive me." George spoke after a few moments of silence.

Will tilted his head to one side. "For what?"

"Dough is sometimes hard to get out of hair." George explained, both of his hands reaching up and pulling the shorter man close, their lips lining up correctly after a few almost painful clicks of their teeth. His slightly sticky hands burrowed into Will's hair. "Nuada Wilhelm Espenson, of course I will live with you. I have been trying to figure out how to ask if I could move in."

"Oh thank god." Will breathed out, entire body relaxing.

George breathed in, the warm scent of Will calming his nerves. "I may have to also ask you to accompany me somewhere." he pulled back slightly, hands still curled in Will's hair. "Now that I'm not- That is to say, now that I am-"

"Now that you're not really Smaug anymore." Will filled in the words he was looking for.

"Yes." George nodded once, a sharp motion, decisive and fluid. "Now that this has occurred, there is someone I must speak with. I fear I might have left her suddenly behind, little to no warning of my departure, and it has been years since I spoke with her." he fell silent, eyes suddenly anywhere else. When he did talk again, the gentle circling of Will's thumb on his hip, he started by withdrawing his teeth from his bottom lip.

"I will always help you when you need it." Will promised.

George met his eyes, a gleam of wonder and hope in his own. "Now that I am not trying to destroy myself with guilt, I think I need to visit my mother." he spoke the words slowly, trying them out. "I ran away, when I was seventeen I ran away. I timed it carefully enough that she would not have been able to do anything about it. By the time she would have realized that I had fled, I was eighteen." he cleared his throat, tried to anyways. The sudden lump that was constricting it made it difficult. "I ran as far away as I could manage the night before my birthday, simply so that she could not follow."

Will nodded, taking in the words with nothing more than a small smile. "How long has it been since you last spoke with her?"

"Almost thirteen years." George whispered, eyes closing as he let his head fall against Will's shoulder. With a soft sigh of contentment, he pulled his hands out of Will's hair. "I did not mean to. My mind was tearing itself apart."

"Untreated depression and memories that made you feel broken," Will summed up, "Of course you couldn't stand it. I presume that you tried telling someone?"

"My highschool counselor thought I had an overactive imagination." George tensed up again as he thought about it. "It was because of his advice that my mother sent me to a psychiatric ward for three weeks. When I was released, I was known around school. Everyone who had seen fit to ignore me before become a tormentor, my name was known by every last student." he bristled at the memory, shoulders becoming sharp points. "Within three months of my release, I had my plan together." 

"How long after that did you run away?" Will asked, voice neutral.

"...Two weeks." George admitted quietly.

Will nodded, then pulled back, letting his hands wander up until his fingers were laced with George's. "Come here?" he pulled gently in the direction of the table. 

Without hesitance, George followed, his eyes focused intently on their entangled hands.

He was dropped into a chair, Will sitting next to him. Their hands were still together, and now their knees were bumping, and it had never felt so good to have so little personal space. They were almost breathing the other's air, and George curled his feet underneath his chair until he could set them on the rung between the legs. "I will go with you." Will spoke at last, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "Of course I will. But I need to know something."

"Yes?"

"Did she ever-" Will broke off, frowned at the words. "I hate to assume anything, hate to leap to conclusions...Did she ever hurt you?"

George went still. " **She** did not." he muttered the words, eyes falling halfway closed. 

"Were there others that did?" It was with an expression of fear on his face that Will said those words. When George didn't answer right away, Will's hands left his, settling instead on the sides of his face. "George?" 

"Another facet of reason behind my running away," George began, words almost sticking in his throat as he tried to work through them. "Was because of the man my mother was seeing at the time. To be honest, my counselor spoke to her, and then her partner insisted that I be put away. Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up in the middle of the night, seventeen years old, and hear your mother discussing sending you as far away as possible without intervention from the law?"

Will nodded slowly, thumbs rubbing in small circles over George's cheekbones, a soothing motion in the face of the sadness covering his lover's face. "I don't," he answered eventually. "But I want you to know something."

"Yes?" George said again, this time with wide eyes that looked vulnerable enough that Will would not ever regret the next words that he said.

"If I ever meet that man," Will said calmly. "I am going to beat him. Possibly within an inch of his life." he leaned in close again, kissed George's forehead. "He probably knew that you would hear it, knew that his words were influential enough to get you sent away. If I meet him, it's going to be a hard battle to keep myself from killing him for what he has done to you."

They sat there for a few minutes, both of them silent.

Eventually, George leaned closer, wrapped his arms around Will's waist and lay his head on the younger man's shoulder. "Thank you." he whispered, feeling the heartbeat in Will's chest.

Will pulled him from his chair and into his own lap. "I mean to protect you, my dragon. You are not, and will never be, a monster."

 

xXxXx

 

"We don't have to do this today."

George looked over at Will, a hand unconsciously smoothing down the front of his shirt. "I-" he cut himself off, muttered something, then curled their fingers together even tighter. "It seems to me, truthfully, to be a waste if we are already here and decide not to go through with it." he gestured at the door they were standing in front of. "If only it would stop taunting me."

"Doors can't taunt." Will smiled, brought George's knuckles to his lips. Slowly, he kissed each one. By the time he was done, George looked considerably more relaxed. "By the flag on the house, I'm guessing that you're Greek?"

"Yes. It was always more important to her than it was to me." George shrugged one shoulder, careful to leave his hand still so that Will could hold onto it. "Maybe I do not want to do this today after all. We do have a hotel room just a little ways away, we could give up and try again later." he rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, tried to take a deep breath. "It's just a door." he hissed, frowning at it.

"Well-"

The decision was made for them as the door swung open slowly, a neat looking woman in her fifties behind it. "Hello?"

Looking between the two of them, Will nearly gaped. Except for the shape of George's nose and the curve of his lips, the two of them looked related enough that he would have pegged them as mother and son even if he hadn't known.

George swallowed, hand dropping back to his side as he stared at her.

After a few moments of silence from both of them, the woman came out from behind the door. There were reading glasses on a chain around her neck, and she looked like someone had slapped her. "...George?"

With a small nod, George swallowed again. "Hello mother."

She stood there for another moment, then shouted something in what Will assumed was Greek and hauled her son in close for a tight hug. If he listened closely, he could hear his boyfriend's back cracking from the strength of it. When she pulled away again, a hand still on her son's shoulder, and turned to Will, he smiled at her. "You brought my son back to me." she whispered, eyes wide. "Who are you?"

"Will Espenson," he stuck a hand out to her, squeaked in surprise when she latched onto him as well. "Hurgk!" he finished, all grace lost in the face of a worried mother.

Pulling back finally, she left a hand on each of their shoulders. "Do you two want to come in?" she looked between them, a smile that reminded Will of George. "I was just about to have lunch. I think that it might be good to have some time to speak with you."

They followed her inside, and George let his hand swing down, curling his fingers in the edge of Will's pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, I am telling the truth when I say that I will be taking a break. I just cranked out over 50K in fanfic, and I should probably be working on my original stories. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoyed the story of Smaug figuring out how to be George, and Bard figuring out how to love him as Will. 
> 
> Also, timeline thing: This takes place in the months between the last chapter of the other part and the epilogue of that part. I'm slowly putting a world around them, and now it's important because now they're dealing with a world that exists around their memories.
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments below? I like writing this story, but I have a file of things I have written and never posted because I do not know how well they'll be received. If you actually want me to post more, tell me!
> 
> Or even if you hate my writing and want me to go die in a fire. I'll take that too.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, so apparently I'm not done yet. I was planning on taking a break, but an idea popped into my head literally a day and a half after I posted the last chapter.
> 
> Goddamn it Smaug.
> 
> (As always, kudos and/or reviews are very much appreciated. I understand I am tackling a tricky portrayal by having a deaf character without knowing or being one myself, and if I am doing it wrong, please tell me so that I may correct it.)


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